


Test 4.01

by mormolyce



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 10:32:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17303021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mormolyce/pseuds/mormolyce
Summary: They strapped the prototype onto Liv’s back. She always insisted on ‘first dibs’ and May, despite knowing the regulations, nearly always allowed it. The project was Liv’s baby after all.





	Test 4.01

“Project Wall Crawler, Test 4.01.”

They strapped the prototype onto Liv’s back. She always insisted on ‘first dibs’ and May, despite knowing the regulations, nearly always allowed it. The project was Liv’s baby after all. A flurry of lab assistants stepped away from the desk and Liv rose to her feet, shoulders hunched under the weight of the contraption. She looked at May excitedly, anxiously, and May nodded in return. She was excited too, but her nerves far outweighed her fleeting joy, a perfect dichotomy to Liv’s almost visible aura of anticipation.

She had liked Olivia. She was fun and bright and one of the best assistants May had ever worked with. And after Benjamin died it was Olivia who had always been thoughtful, always been kind, admonishing her for staying at work too late, dropping three floors down to May’s office before she left, offering her a lift home. May was so grateful it almost hurt. She even ‘babysat’ Peter once, when May had gone out with an old friend and Uncle Ben’s death was still fresh in everyone’s mind. May had drunk far more than necessary and when she came home the house was a tip, but Peter had gone to bed smiling and Olivia had stayed to clean up. In a moment of drunken insanity May had made moves; Olivia had had a crush on her for years for God’s sake. They used to joke about it openly.

And then everything has become complicated. That was two years ago. Things hadn’t stopped being complicated since.

And then the project started. It was Liv’s idea at first, Liv’s theoretical baby. She watched too many lectures on neurology, on prosthetic limbs and robotics. That was her third specialisation; robotics. But she’d needed May’s help. May agreed, reluctantly at first. They stayed late after work, holed up in a long-forgotten research lab when the higher-ups had given them a bare-minimum level of assent. But from the moment they produced the first prototype all other projects were dropped. The wolves came sniffing and company after company started bidding on the project, all eventually defeated by the United States Armed Forces, Research Division.

And that had led them here. Three rounds of testing down, round four about to begin. Liv marched into the testing chamber and the door slid shut behind her. May and the lab assistants watched fervently through the bulletproof glass. Liv took a deep breath and grinned, wolfishly. She reached behind her and the machine sputtered into life, whirring and screeching angrily.

May watched as the spindly metallic legs clawed their way out of the backpiece, landing one by one with a heavy _clunk_ against the linoleum floor. They twitched uncontrollable as Liv tried to stabilise herself. She pushed off the ground and a million tiny hinges creaked in a mechanical symphony, straining under her weight. May nodded at her through the view glass, and Liv raised one hand. Her gesture was too fast and too sharp. The metallic legs erupted into a flurry of deranged movement and she skittered uncontrollably across the testing chamber, crawling up the walls like a spastic harvestman. Her real legs dangled uselessly, and every time she tried to steady herself with her arms the machine would sense her brain activity and throw her through the air once more.  

But it was not the erratic flaying of metal limbs that unsettled May, nor the way Liv’s body swung pitifully as the machine hauled her about the chamber. In the mere seconds of manic movement, Liv’s hair, always desperate to escape the huge braid, had fallen loose entirely, hanging over her face and shoulders in equal parts. Her glasses were lopsided, her top ripping apart at the seams, and there was already a bruise forming on her forearm. But she was grinning wildly. Grinning and staring through the matted hair with an intensity May had only seen when she used to visit her grandmother at Palewater Psychiatric. She couldn’t stomach it then and she couldn’t stomach it now.

May hit the failsafe and Liv dropped from the ceiling, metal limbs shirking and quivering as they slipped into the backpiece. She opened the door to the test chamber and watched as Liv hauled herself off the floor. Her nose was bleeding furiously, and loose hair stuck to the blood on her chin. She pushed her cracked glasses up her nose and smiled at May like a child. May looked back at her, expressionless.

“We did it,” said Liv, staggering forwards. An armful of lab assistants rushed in to help her, and together they eased Liv into one of the stools. May shooed them away unceremoniously. She began unstrapping the device from Liv's back, working quickly with deft hands to loosen the buckles and unclip the fastenings. Liv was out of breath and heaving, but the smile did not fall from her face.

“We did it,” she repeated, staring at the floor in disbelief.

“We did,” replied May, tugging apart the strap from Liv’s shoulder.

She moved around the stool and ran her fingers over Liv’s waist, concentrating on the elaborate cluster of chords and buckles. Liv leant back and watched at her.

“You’re magnificent.”

May stopped moving and stared at her.

“This wouldn’t be possible without you,” continued Liv, leaning forward. She brought her knees together slightly, pinching them against May’s hips. “Your art, your mind.” In one clean swoop she pushed back the hair that was covering her face, and left May looking down at her hungry smile. Liv moved closer still. Their noses were almost touching. “I couldn’t do it without you.”

“Stop.”

Liv’s face fell and May pushed away, turning her back on her research partner. Liv scrambled to get out of the machine, pulling manically at straps she could barely reach.

“But don’t you see?” she exclaimed, wincing as she freed herself from the machine, “This is nearly it! We’re so close!” She dragged herself upright and staggered toward May, hauling herself forward with one hand on a workbench. “Think of what can be done with this technology! The implications – the fire service, mountain rescue, even fucking maintenance men, _think_ May! Think how much good this could do!”

She reached for May’s wrist but May swatted her away, turning on the spot and glaring at her. Liv watched her, panting.

“We’re funded by the military, Liv. The military don’t want to do good.”

“So screw them!” exclaimed Liv, throwing up one arm in a huge sweeping gesture that ripped her sleeve apart at the seam. “ _We_ can do this. _Us_.”

“No.” May took a step back. “Whatever was going on in there, this is _not_ what I signed up for. Jesus, just watch yourself on the playback, you looked like something out of a technophobe horror film. The woman in that machine was not you Liv, that _thing_ has… Nothing to do with us. Or you.”

“But that was me!” shouted Liv, her slingshot reply hitting May square in the chest. “Don’t you see? That was exactly where I was meant to be! This project, this technology, this _is_ me!”

May swallowed dryly. Before the project Liv had been quiet, anxious and playful all at the same time. She made stupid jokes and fiddled nervously with her braid. She was still childlike, she would always be childlike, but back then it was endearing. Now it was terrifying.

“I want out,” said May.

Liv matched her gaze. Her breath finally slowed and she stood upright, fingers curling into the workbench.

“Professionally?”

“And personally.”

Liv had no poker face; her expression struggled as hurt and rage waged war inside of her.

“It’s because I’m not him, isn’t it? Even after this, even after _all_ this” - she swept one hand over her head as if making a rainbow – “I’m still not _him_.”

“This is because you’re not you, Liv.” Her voice was slow and methodical, like a lion tamer refusing to cower. “This suit, that machine, this whole _stupid_ project! It’s got inside you. It’s… Doing something. And if you don’t stop, I will not follow.”

Liv smirked. She put one hand on her hip, sauntering towards May theatrically. Her fingernails dragged along the workbench by her side. May began to slowly back away.

“You can’t just leave,” drawled Liv. “You work here. We’ll see each other every day. All day. Day in, day out. Can you live with that?”

“Yes.”

“Nooo, you can’t. I know you can’t.”

“I can, Liv, and I will,” she punctuated her words now, her anger at Liv’s tempestuous childishness bubbling over despite her outwardly calm demeanour. This used to be cute. Liv chiding and giggling; May swatting her across the ear and getting her to behave. ‘I hate you.’ ‘No, you don’t.’ It was a million universes away.

May looked her lover square in the eyes and did not back down.

“I will not follow you.”

The air changed.

Liv froze on the spot. Her otherwise even breath began to quicken, and she started heaving as heavily as when she’d first clambered out the testing chamber. Her smirk twitched and twisted into a silent snarl, and her fingernails scratched tiny uneven lines into the workbench’s mottled plastic. May took another step back and watched her levelly.

“Goodbye, Liv.”

She turned all but ran out of the lab. Liv was shrieking hysterically before May even shut the door, howling and swearing and knocking down lab equipment with all the strength her spindly limbs would allow. The sounds of splintered glass and metal on metal reverberated in the corridor as Liv tore through the laboratory, and May leant against the wall, eyes shut, panting.

A small huddle of lab assistants eyed her warily. She blinked and stared at them.

“Me and Dr. Octavius are… Going out separate ways.”

“Professionally?” ventured one bespectacled brunette. She’d been gushy for Liv since the project began, eyes full of stars whenever she was in three feet of her. May snorted hollowly at the opportunism.

“And personally.”

The assistants exchanged anxious glances.

“You should go home.”

The assistants nodded.

“I’m sorry to leave you like this. You’ve all done such wonderful work.”

The assistants nodded again.

“Maybe I’ll work with you again someday.”

And then she pushed past them and disappeared down the corridor.

\---

Without May’s support the program faltered, stumbling over itself again and again until it eventually collapsed. Funding was pulled not two months later, and Liv left the company without honouring the notice policy. They chased it up with May, and for the sake of her career May made a half-hearted attempt to track Dr. Octavius down, but to no avail. All records of her stopped cold a few months after Test 4.01. Liv hung in space, an eternal question mark hovering at the back of May’s mind. But she never regretted her decision to leave the project.

The following year May heard through the proverbial grapevine that Liv was working at Alchemax, tacked onto the biology division. Both concepts were wildly unwelcome. Alchemax was shady, so shady it had almost outbid the US government for project Wall Crawler. And biology? Liv was no biologist. Neurology sure, maybe, but she knew nothing of bones and genetics. The sinews of the human body held no interest for Liv, the mind yes, the atmosphere and the stars and the millions of possibilities that lay within, but the body? Liv was no cloner, no geneticist or doctor (real, medical doctor that was). She had never wanted to tamper with the human form – she’d actively scolded those who chose to do so.

And yet there she was.

It was only later, when Peter came home one-night panting, covered in scratches that looked neither man nor monster that May put the pieces together. She watched on the news as Liv – Doctor Octopus – scrambled over the rooftops, grappling and climbing and destroying with an all too familiar set of appendages crawling out of her back. She recorded the news report on a tape and watched it back, over and over, trying to figure out the shape of the backpiece, try to identify the outline of the machine. But it was not there. No matter how close she sat, no matter how much she squinted. There was no machine.

Peter grew worried.

“Aunt May?” he asked one evening, looking up pitifully from his microwave meal.

May pursed her lips and turned away from the washing up. She held a coffee mug in her hand like a weapon.

“Yes?”

“What are you” – Peter swallowed – “What are you actually looking for, when you watch those recordings of Doc Ock?”

May turned away from him and began scrubbing the coffee cup furiously.

“I just wanted to know… _Where_ the legs come from, you know?”

“Her back,” said Peter, shoving another wad of… something into his mouth.

“A little more detail, Peter.”

“But that’s where they come from!” he spat, sending a spray of food across the kitchen table.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Peter chewed and pointedly stared at the back of her head. He swallowed audibly before continuing.

“They come from her back, like, prosthetics or something I don’t know. There’s nothing there once she tucks them away, they just, _yonk_ , and then they’re gone and she slithers back to whatever hole she crawled out of. Why?”

“No reason,” said May, scrubbing the cup so hard she almost scoured her own hand. “Just… It’s interesting, that’s all.”

“Well,” sniffed Peter, “Let me know if you’re interested in helping stop her, because she is _not_ going to give it a rest.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he continued, standing up and dumping the remnants of dinner into the trash can. “She’s got it out for me now. Anyway, I’m gotta go shower.”

“Ah yes, I thought I smelt something.”

“Har har. Night Aunt May.”

“Goodnight, Peter.”

She heard him scamper upstairs, taking some ridiculous spidery shortcut that omitted using any actual steps, and sagged with relief. It was Liv. She sat down, damp hands in her lap, and stared fixatedly at the grain of the kitchen table. May was well versed in the concept of mutual destruction. And even if she did help Peter catch Doc Ock, who’s to say Liv would ever feel the force of the law? She was probably protected even now. Beside, if May did talk it would be obvious, so blisteringly obvious that Liv would almost certainly track her down and reap a bloody revenge.

She thought of the lab assistants, wondered how many were being paid off, how many harassed through fear, how many were working at Alchemax now. She thanked her lucky stars that she backed away when she did. And then May realised, in a moment of startling clarity, that she’d heard nothing from the company at all. No threats, no bribes, nothing. Before she’d thought it was just Liv’s stubborn sentimentality, and perhaps it was. But May was the reason they’d got anywhere to begin with; May _built_ the original prototype. Alchemax wanted their money’s worth, it would be in their best interest to try and recruit her. But she’d heard nothing. Not a peep in years.

She swallowed dryly. In her heart she knew it was too good to be true. The house was probably under surveillance, Liv had probably kept her away through pride, but… She’d heard nothing. And Alchemax was big. Huge and cavernous and immensely powerful. If they wanted to silence May, it would have taken a hell of a lot to stop them coming after her.

Her heart clung desperately to the last fleeting thread of Liv’s kindness.

‘Stay away from Dr. Parker,’ she imagined Liv saying. ‘Stay away or I walk.’

But if that happened, May never found out.


End file.
